


Two Down, One To Go

by quiet__tiger



Category: DCU (Comics), Teen Titans (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, Eating Disorders, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Tim drake needs a hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-15
Updated: 2017-04-15
Packaged: 2018-10-19 02:00:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10629840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quiet__tiger/pseuds/quiet__tiger
Summary: Dick realizes Tim has a problem, and tries to help.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Refers to events in IC 6 and FLASH #13.
> 
> Dick/Tim if you squint.
> 
> Sister-fic to [No One Alive](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10629894).
> 
> Originally posted to Livejournal Jun. 22nd, 2007.

Dick watched as Tim started another round on the elliptical machine, sweat beading on his forehead from his previous workout on the uneven bars. Tim breathed hard and wiped his eyes, and kept running with the machine. He’d been working hard for the last month or so, fitting in extra workouts.

Dick wasn’t sure he was supposed to notice.

He crossed the room to the computer console, where Bruce typed steadily. He leaned against the edge next to the keyboard so Bruce could see him. “Has Tim been training more?”

Bruce frowned. “A little.”

“Does it worry you?”

“Should it?”

“I’m not even here all the time, and it worries _me_. I don’t want him to work too hard, hurt himself.”

“I’ve been paying attention. He’s okay.”

Yeah, because you totally always know exactly what’s going on around you; villains yes, friends and family, no. Dick _barely_ refrained from rolling his eyes. “He doesn’t look thin to you?”

Bruce frowned again and hit the backspace button several times before continuing his typing. “He’s always been thin and small.”

“If you say so.” But he didn’t think so. There was thin and fit, and then there was the way Tim’s muscles looked a little too visible in a bad way.

But he didn’t want to get into an argument right now. He knew Tim didn’t need that.

~*~

A month passed, and Tim seemed to be a little better. Mentally, at least. He could talk about his friend a little easier, and maybe one day he would be able to share memories without getting teary-eyed.

But he still looked too thin. When Dick asked him about it, concerned for his brother, he got brushed off with an explanation that all his new shirts were just a little bigger in size.

Yeah, right.

But Dick didn’t want to fight because it was his and Tim’s pizza and movie night, and they hardly ever got to have them anymore, and he wanted them both to enjoy it. A while into the movie, Tim excused himself to go to the bathroom. When he didn’t come back in a few minutes, Dick walked quietly to the door.

He hoped that wasn’t muffled vomiting coming from inside.

When Tim opened the door, he looked surprised to see him. He hesitated half a second before explaining, “I haven’t been feeling well. Greasy pizza just got the best of me.”

“You sure?”

Tim nodded and sat back down on the couch. Dick followed, but he couldn’t get his mind off of his little brother. Something was wrong.

~*~

Dick watched for another month as Tim worked out harder and more frequently, ate less, and refused Dick’s help and brushed off Dick’s questions. Finally Dick entered Tim’s room one day when he was reading and closed the door behind him.

Tim looked up, eyes dull in their sallow sockets. “Hey, Dick.”

“Stop it.”

“Stop what?”

“Starving yourself. Purging. This is your intervention.”

“One person isn’t an intervention.”

“It can be. And I doubt you want Bruce or Alfred here.” Apparently Tim wasn’t even going to deny his problem.

“Fuck off, Dick.”

“No. You need help.” Dick stood still as he watched Tim carefully get to his feet. “What’s wrong?”

“Stress fracture.”

Dick frowned. “You need help.”

“No, I _don’t_. I’m fine.”

Dick gave up trying to keep calm. “You’re _not_ fine! You’re so thin you look like a No Man’s Land refugee! You can’t keep up in training! I can’t be positive I’ve seen you actually swallow food and keep it down in the last week! You’re destroying yourself and I want to know why!”

Tim finally gave in and shouted, “I have to train harder! I have to be better! I have to be perfect!”

“Who told you that? Perfection is the goal, but sometimes it doesn’t work. You’ve learned to improvise with what’s available.”

“Kon and Bart.” Tears welled up in Tim’s eyes, and he looked away.

Dick was wrapped around his bony shoulders in half a second. “Tim...” He should have figured. Tim barely got through Kon’s death, and then Bart was lost, too. Too soon, too much in addition to everyone else...

“He’s fucking gone, Dick!” The words were hateful, thick with tears, and sharp wrists locked around his back.

“It’s not your fault, there’s nothing you could have done...” Why didn’t everyday soothing words work, ever? Why was being a hero so damn painful?

“I know that. But if I let myself slip even once, if I don’t stay in shape, if I don’t stay light, I won’t be able to stay alive, either!” Dick held Tim closer, as tight as he could without risking hurting him. “They had powers. And they still died. I’m just human. I have to be perfect or I’m next. Can’t you see the fucking arrow over my head?”

Dick’s throat got awfully narrow, and he struggled not to break down in tears himself. “You’ve always been a fighter. You’ve always come out on top.”

“So did they. Until the last time. We were the original three. Impulse, Superboy, Robin. Now it’s just me, two down, one to go.”

“Tim...” What the hell was there to say? He couldn’t possibly guarantee Tim wouldn’t die. He didn’t even know if Tim would make it to the next Titan’s meeting without collapsing in a weak, exhausted heap.

“Have to stay in shape, work hard. Can always be better, can always be fitter. Can always be lighter. Can’t get weighted down by food. Have to be ready to move. I can't control anything else, but I can at least control me.”

Dick pulled back to look into Tim’s swimming eyes. There was anger there, hate, and absolutely fear. “You can’t do this. You’re not thin or fit. You’re weak. You need help.”

“No...”

“Yes!” He brushed Tim’s hair back from his forehead, and the pain in his eyes was almost too much to bear. He just looked so betrayed, so empty. Dick kissed his forehead lightly, then his cheek, then his mouth.

Tim shuddered and sobbed again, and Dick turned to press Tim’s head against him. He let him cry. After a while the sobs calmed, and Tim pulled back, the picture of anguish. “You’ll help me?”

Dick was struck dumb by the question. He blinked, and finally replied, “Of course.”

“I don’t deserve it.” He looked away. “I fucked up.”

“Perhaps. But if you want help, you can get it.”

Tim shuddered again, and Dick suspected there were more tears coming. “Maybe I need it.”

“I think you do. Before I lose you. I need you, Tim.”

“Maybe.”

“No maybe.” Dick used his fingers to pull Tim’s head back to his. “I do. I love you. You’re my brother. And my friend. And everything in between.” He kissed his forehead again, then his mouth once more. “Don’t leave me. Not like this. I can’t watch you waste away.”

“I can’t promise. It hurts so much to eat. Not hurt, I mean, but I just... I can’t. It’ll slow me down. And I can’t stop training. One moment where I miss a step, and...”

“Don’t talk like that. Right now, we’re just going to go one step at a time, one day at a time.”

Tim sniffled again. “I don’t deserve you.”

“I’m going to have to argue with you. You deserve everything good that comes your way. Assuming I fall into that.”

“Of course.” For the first time, Tim squeezed him back. It was a half-hearted effort at best. Dick led them back to Tim’s bed, and they sat. Dick continued to hold Tim, afraid that if he let go he really would just slip away.

He wasn’t sure why life had decided to be so cruel to one Timothy Drake. Who the fuck was going to be next? All he knew was that he’d always be there for his little brother. They’d be able to keep each other in check. He’d make sure Tim ate and gained back his weight and strength, and maybe Tim would help make sure Dick didn’t cut himself anymore. It was either a great idea or a terrible one, he wasn’t sure.

He just wanted the world to leave them alone for a while to try to heal.

**Author's Note:**

> Batman POV follow up: [Price to Pay](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10649463).


End file.
